Like You Mean It
by ksuzu
Summary: Boruto and Sarada swap bodies. Cue angst. [A screwball romance told in small bites.]
1. Like You See It

Summary: Boruto and Sarada swap bodies on a very important day. Typical, really.

Note: very mild spoilers for the latest chapters of Naruto and the last two movies. Nothing revealed of plot except main character aspirations and that they live (obviously) to old-ish age. If you know the plot of the Boruto movie, then you'll prob understand Mitsuki's role in a new way. If not, don't worry your head about it.

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 **Like You Mean It**

 _a strangely tipsy comedy_

 _and romance, perhaps_

 _told in bits and pieces_

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Konoha village has several badly kept secrets.

The first is that the Hokage never attends any public briefings in the flesh.

Hokage-sama uses kage bunshin for almost everything, even village-wide TV addresses (which means his that poor, overworked advisor-aka-accomplice Nara-sama has to smile and wheedle and lie between his teeth on live television as well). Of course, Naruto—as a war hero—is forgiven.

The second is that Sakura Uchiha is over forty years old.

It is a (traumatizing) rite of passage for teenage boys from other villages when they learn that the legendary medic is actually their mothers' age. This is commonly referred to as the pre-test to the Chunnin exams, for weeding out the mentally weak. In fact, many Konoha warhawks are secretly filled with glee at the fact that this often lowers foreign genin morale for the first days of the exam. In Konoha, when Uchiha-san's true age is alluded to in broad daylight, however, the speaker must glance furtively (as if checking for traffic: right, left, then right again) to make sure no one working for the hospital overhears and reports it to their beloved boss. Because medical check-ups are expensive enough as is.

The third badly-kept secret is that the reigning Hokage's son is a bit of an idiot.

(Not that anyone would tell the Hokage, because, you know, the man in his youth was a bit like a brick himself. )

All things considered, the villagers only began to suspect this the day Boruto Uzumaki painted Konoha's Hokage Monument the morning other village Kages came to visit.

They brushed it off back then, mostly because they were too busy thanking the stars that Boruto let out his pubescent angst in a non-homicidal, non-suicidal, non-masochistic, non-i'm-gonna-screw-this-village-over way. Thank goodness. After several generations, Konoha villagers did not have high standards for this kind of thing.

Everyone's niggling suspicion of idiocy is confirmed, at long last, when Boruto is seventeen.

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Sarada wakes up at precisely 500 military time to go to the fields and practice her katas for two hours. Just because she has her Sharingan doesn't mean her body's naturally limber enough to follow her head's commands.

She pries herself out of bed, and toes the cool floorboards before stalking to the bathroom, half asleep and squinting as bespectacled people do.

Last spring, she'd moved into her own studio apartment. Her mom's hours on duty in the hospital and also training of new medics translates to an empty Uchiha house most of the time.

Living on her own allows for a few embarrassing personal decorations that she could never reveal to her mom, even less so, her dad. These include a small photo of the Hokage (ripped from _Trendy Kunoichi_ magazine, which is junk, but junk with high-resolution pictures) taped to her bathroom mirror. The Hokage looks particularly cheerful, and, twinkly teeth aside, his thumbs-up pose encourages her every morning toward her dream.

So when she splashes gunk out of her eyes and finally focuses on the not one but two blonde heads and two pairs of blue eyes staring back at her, she screams.

The bathroom sink knob is twisted clean off.

The resulting water spray sticks her pink nightdress (from Mom) to what is a very nice, _very male_ set of abs.

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Himawari Uzumaki is awake and downstairs when a loud knocking pounds the front door of the Uzumaki residence.

Strange. Usually, ANBU tell family members of visitors before guests ever reach the main compound.

She peers through the fish eye in the front door.

It's her brother—looking a bit out of breath and clothed in Uchiha formal wear: sleek hakama pants and an expensive-looking haori with the fan crest repeated along the fabric.

"Did Sasuke-sensei give those to you? You look ridiculous," she smiles and swings open the door. "And you know Dad's not going to think that's funny."

"Himawari, it's me!" Boruto's eyes are like saucers.

"Uh, yeah, Nii-chan, sure."

Himawari attributes this to the stress of upcoming jounin nominations. Or maybe too many concussions from his teammate Sarada. She rolls her blue eyes and is thankful Mom is already at Hokage Tower, away from her brother's juvenile moods.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're actually up early so we can go over some things for Dad's big day." Himawari pulls her brother into the house and sits him down at the kitchen table.

"Listen—ah, is Boruto home?"

The hand is on the hip. One of mom's subtle cues she inherited. "Okay, not funny."

"Himawari, let me explain! I'm Sarada!"

Himawari actually chuckles this time. "Okay... If you're thinking about pulling that joke again today, I'd like to remind you that Mom and Dad flipped out when you were ten. And also when you were fifteen and gave Uncle Sasuke that porn novel on his birthday." She giggles again at the memory. "Well, you're too old to be doing this now."

Sarada in Boruto's body groans. She instinctively tries to adjust her glasses and is again reminded of the predicament at hand. Then, her primary objective comes back to her.

"Listen, can we go to my bedroom? I need to check something."

Himawari beams. Her expression certainly lives up to the girl's namesake.

"Did you finish that card I left by your bedside? You did do more than sign your name on it, right, Nii-chan? …I mean, it's Dad's tenth year anniversary as Hokage!"

The younger Uzumaki sibling climbs up the stairs first, followed by her visitor. Upstairs, Boruto's room is the first to the left of the hallway. It's kind of like a rasengan exploded in the center and it smells faintly of kunai grease and ramen.

On the mattress tucked into the corner, sleeping like a corpse in Boruto's t-shirt and froggy boxers, is Sarada Uchiha.

Himawari's eyes light up.

"Oh, wow."

The real Sarada groans again. "Oh, _no_."

Himawari peers sideways, hardly hiding her glee.

"Well, now I owe Chouchou fifty ryo. Even if you finally got it through your thick skull and confessed, I didn't think Sarada would _ever_ agree."

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tbc


	2. Like You Feel It

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It is a horrific thing to watch another person (more so, a teenaged male) stuck in your body. Conscious or not, a uniquely diseased male mind exhibits it influences. Gross, perverse, unhygienic, etc… all snips and snails and things that don't end well in the nursery rhymes her mom read to her as a child.

So when Sarada sees Boruto's hand sleepily scratch at _her_ stomach, before working its way _upward_ , she intervenes.

"SHAAAANAROOO!"

Himawari is convinced, then. She's keeping her money.

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 _Wham._

"You are an animal."

 _Whack._

The wall shakes.

"Disgusting."

 _Thwok._

"Animal."

Was Boruto (rather, uh, Sarada) possibly trying to kill her brother? Himawari, like the well-trained kunoichi she is, assesses the risk and retreats to cook breakfast and let this fight settle itself. She does, however, resourcefully pick up a small cheery card reading "Congratulations Dad!" on her way out.

Sarada's assault eventually slows enough for Boruto to garble out his confused indignation.

" _Stop!_ … You…! Who are yo— _aagh!_ "

The Uchiha stops her fist a hair's breadth from her target. She can't quite bring herself to hit her own face. " _Weak…_ " she mutters under her breath, though the abused wall behind the bed shows signs to the contrary.

Silence settles over the room.

And, finally, Boruto breathes in a very female voice:

"You're me, 'ttebasa?"

The two look at one another, one astonished pair of inky eyes into a narrowed set of blue ones.

"I'm not," the now-blonde Sarada deadpans. "It's me, stupid Boruto."

 _No one_ said his name with that tone, except one lifelong menace.

As comprehension dawns, Boruto instinctively reaches up to protect himself, because the face (his face?) in front of him is full of unrelenting and definitely _Uchiha_ _fury_.

In the moment his arms raise to protect his jugular, they brush against his chest and register something… soft.

Boruto looks down.

" _D-Dude!_ I have boo—"

He never finishes his observation.

(Uchiha fury, and all that.)

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They finish breakfast in a dull sort of silence. Himawari tries to initiate a few times, munching thoughtfully and offering filler conversation of how, apparently, her brother and Sarada's bodies have been swapped, and, gee, isn't that interesting?

"Well, at least you can work on your relationship now. As they say, walk in another man's shoes…" the younger Uzumaki smiles, looking from one icy face to the other.

She clears her throat lightly, because while the kitchen table has become a cease-fire zone, it is most certainly far from peace.

"Dad's ceremony is at 2 in the afternoon, so don't be late, Nii-chan. He'll be in the tower until noon, so maybe don't go there and freak him out until then, yes?"

Boruto spasms a bit. It's kind of like a nod. Almost.

"And Sarada, your dad's coming, right? You'll want to see him there."

Sarada dips her head slowly. Boruto's face looks grim and ashy on her.

"I know! Before you leave, why don't we get you dressed in one of Boruto's outfits?" Himawari suggests in what she hopes is her mother's kindest tones. Alas, Himawari is as much her father's daughter as her mother's, and doesn't get it quite right. Boruto is about to scrunch his eyes and push back his chair in case Sarada starts rampaging again, but all that comes out of the Uchiha's mouth is:

"… I'll need hair gel."

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tbc


	3. Like You Plan It

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Fingers kneading at his throbbing forehead, Boruto finally opens his eyes to steal a furtive glance at the familiar face across from him.

Sarada is sitting across the somewhat sticky table in a small hole-in-the-wall yakiniku diner. Well, sort of. In HIS body.

After contracting with Himawari to keep this predicament a secret for the price of letting his younger sister play dress up on him-in-Sarada's-body, Boruto and Sarada had escaped the Uzumaki house before Himawari could spritz any more perfume on him and were now sitting here, traumatized but inconspicuous (well, as inconspicuous as the progeny of the first and second most powerful men in Konoha could be, though the exact order of whose dad is stronger has been long disputed).

Sarada's eyes are narrowed blue slits, _almost_ causing him physical pain, despite her not having her father's black fire and certainly not being able to develop such a power in Boruto's form.

It's a weird, Uchiha-ish expression on him.

Boruto has to admit that this is quite unlike the usual mulish pout he sees himself make in the mirror at the end of a bad day, another sign this whole pretend-to-be-each-other show is gonna be like hell to keep up.

But _try_ they must. And are.

"For. The. Last. Time. We can't do guard duty at the ceremony today, stupid. You don't know my ANBU security clearance password."

Yep. _Kami,_ are they _trying_.

"So just TELL it to me! Stop being such a pain in the ass!"

"Look, I can't tell you. It's against the shinobi honor code." Boruto watches, slightly amused, as Sarada flushes red, a mix of her already pulsating anger and something else that Boruto thinks is emb—nah, can't be.

You can't judge a man until you walk in his shoes ten thousand miles. Well, Boruto probably has walked alongside Sarada that many miles, since they were babies.

Sarada is one of those people that messes up (though only once in a blue moon, Boruto thinks grudgingly) and spends the rest of the day trying to talk you over about how it was ACTUALLY your fault. She's been an unfeminine and bossy know-it-all since childhood, and would likely be unrepentant 'til death.

"We've been teammates for ages, 'ttebasa!" he wheedles in a final ditch effort, headache growing worse.

He's hoping to kami he sounds cooler than this in real life, when he has his own body and not this girly, petite, pathetically slender and altogether not-bad-maybe-rather-attractive bod—aaaand no.

Brain, no.

Boruto's fingers reattach themselves to his temples.

He is going crazy and it's because of the female hormones circulating along with weird Uchiha chakra. Going batshit insane, because his skin is suddenly soft and supple and—he suspects—smells really nice even without his sister's perfume. Worst of all, it's the skin of his childhood frenemy.

 _"'Ttebasa?"_ Sarada repeats dully, and Boruto is able to snap himself back to reality.

Her scoffing tone, even in his voice, sounds nothing like the verbal tic Boruto does. "I don't say stuff like that, because unlike _certain_ people, I speak like an adult."

"Well, Ms. _Adult_ , tell me your stinkin' password and we both won't need to listen to each other for a while!" He swallows the 'ttebasa before it escapes fully, hoping Sarada didn't catch it this time.

She looks preoccupied again, though, eyes downcast, as if she's contemplating something.

"…Can't."

Boruto lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Look, you don't have to follow the rules for everything! Be cool, okay? If you're going to be in my body, at least try to ease the priss-factor by 50%."

Sarada struggles for words for a second. "Well—tell me yours, then."

Boruto huffs.

"Ramen."

His companion's face contorts, which twists Boruto's expression into glowering, somewhat hilarious mess. If there's one thing Boruto actually outgrew since childhood, it's emotional constipation. Unfortunately, the Uchiha's seemed to invariably develop it, like a genetic lactose-intolerance or something.

At least Sarada's not one to pull punches _on him_ , though. Not anymore, since the whole genin team thing happened and they had to do things like sleep in the same cramped tent as Mitsuki after he tried to show them what he called his belly button.

"Ulgh… That is _just like you_! People could have guessed that, stupid! We're supposed to have passwords that no one in the entire world can guess, even our parents. You are _unbelievable!_ "

In theory, Sarada is correct.

The ANBU developed the new measure of security clearance passwords four years ago, after kekkai genkai was discovered that allowed perfect duplication of another's body that could not be detected by Konoha's Sharingan or Byakugan.

Now that guerrilla warfare and terror attacks are more and more prevalent, Konoha's services inserted new measures when assigning guard duty near the Hokage for events where the Nanadaime actually does show up in the flesh.

As ANBU active-duty members, both Boruto and Sarada have shifts of guard duty for the 10th Anniversary of the Nanadaime's term, before the ceremony transitioned into laudatory speeches from diplomats and other kages.

For that part, immediate family members are expected to sit behind the Hokage in an embarrassing VIP box and look happy while close friends like the Uchiha are expected to turn up but look radiantly happy from the crowd. Boruto's status as the Uzumaki Naruto's son does not exempt him from guard duty first, then sitting lame-duck smiling for the cameras second.

" _FINE,_ nerd. Can we use kage bunshin then? Make one and have her give your password when you report for duty. Sure, eye jutsu can sometimes tell a clone from the real thing, but the byakugan also traces your chakra back to you."

Sarada looks sullen.

"I tried this morning when I woke up. My shadow clones looked like you. Except smarter." She ignores Boruto's put-out look. "And it was hard using your chakra."

"Just perform henge, stupid. Transform my good-lookin' clones into your unsexy self. Or…"

Boruto's grin stretches wide.

"…I'll teach you the Sexy no Jutsu."

Silence.

He wisely takes that as a no.

"Okay then…What's your great idea, Sarada?"

She pauses, thinking.

For the umpteenth time today, Boruto sees her hand go up to smooth the ever messy, blonde hair that was now _her_ problem. He has to stop the mental picture of slender fingers winding through his hair, if it were actually Sarada and not Sarada in his body. She tugs a strand down, probably lost in her thoughts. His hair is resistant to all but the most extreme methods of change though, and quickly bounces back.

He's always been proud of that resilient tousle, since it was one of the things that his mom tried to tame with a wet comb but never succeeded (thank kami, because Boruto didn't have the heart to tell his mom to bug off).

Back at the Uzumaki house, Sarada had gotten as far as locating the gel in Boruto's bathroom (the only brand that worked, actually) before he had got over the shell-shock of losing his manhood and immediately set some ground rules.

After some verbal warfare, Sarada had stopped threatening his hair when Himawari arrived to usher her out of Boruto's room to change out of Uchiha ceremonial wear.

So, while Boruto struggled with his own Himawari-endorsed understated sweatshirt (which he slammed over his head to relieve any responsibility for accidentally groping himself) but maddeningly periwinkle pants (which he tugged over the froggy boxers), he tried very hard to listen-yet-not listen to the girls in the next room.

...To listen to if the girls were evaluating his manhood. Gawd, he sure hoped not.

He did, however, hear snippets of conversation about how the Uchiha ceremonial haori was the only outfit Sarada was able to sneak out of her parents' house at 5:30 am when no convenience stores selling simple attire were open. Her father's clothes but also the sleeping Uchiha matriarch were tucked away in the master bedroom.

Besides her father, there is one other person Sarada doesn't want to find out about this predicament: her mom. Boruto kind of gets it, too. Sakura Uchiha is not one to mess with. Who knew what sort of medical tests they would be put through?

An unhappy sigh brings him back to the present.

"I can't think of anything that let's us both pass security at the same time and see our parents without giving us away. Clones are out of the question. And so is henge. Father will be here for the ceremony, and his eye jutsu are really powerful." Sarada fidgets unhappily in her seat. " _But_ I think I can get us in, one at a time. Himawari had the sense to give me your custom flak uniform to wear. I can at least go to the ANBU unit, use your password—"

"HEY, speaking of which, where's _your_ jacket? These clothes reek from Hima's perfume, and I'm suffocating here!" Boruto interrupts, too busy reevaluating the unfairness of their respective garments to comment on the plan.

"Oh," Sarada has the gall to look sheepish. "I tried to put mine on you this morning, but you're…um, fatter than I thought. A part of the zipper bent and broke."

"Fat? Geez, get real. I'm a prime specimen," he puffs. "And it wouldn't have been a problem if you had bigger b—ah, I mean…" Boruto stops and flushes, not daring to look to see if Sarada's shade matches his.

Crapcrapcrap. He's insane. Too many female hormones.

"A-anyway, it's not fat, it's muscle," Boruto finally grinds out, voice as manly as he can get it using Sarada's vocal chords. "You girls are all stupidly thin nowadays. I don't know how you expect to capture enemies with twigs for arms."

"You forget all those times I clobbered you this year."

"Unofficial matches. I let you, Four-Eyes."

He's a liar, of course. Sarada's efficient display of physical strength is the actually the scariest in the village next to her mom's.

"I'm just going to ignore that… So, as I was saying, I'll slip in as you, do your rotation, and then right before my shift starts, I'll tell the guy on watch that I'm just going to the bathroom, and step out of the gate."

"Uh-what?" Boruto is beginning to think Sarada thinking with his brain is not as brilliant as the usual Sarada. "You just went in and out again."

"Let me finish. You—with henge to look like your normal self—quickly go back in. They won't examine you carefully for a transformation jutsu if you already checked in earlier, AND only stepped out for a second. Stupid as you may be, no international assassin could kill you and switch places with you that fast. Just remember to say your crummy password to Sai and you're all set."

"Uh, thanks?" Boruto is actually pretty impressed with Sarada's ability to nest a compliment between all those insults. "But what if one of the Shins are there? Or a Hyuga?"

"That's why I'll go in first, to check who's on duty. You know all the younger ANBU are kind of scared of Sai, so they probably won't hang around."

Boruto thinks of the ever-smiling ANBU security officer. "You mean, I'll dispel the henge when I'm inside, and then do your shift of guard duty?"

"Yes."

Boruto contemplates this.

"Hmm, that's still not gonna work, Ms. Braniac."

"Why not?"

"Because," Boruto crows, half happy he caught a flaw in her plan, half angry it means they still don't have a viable option to get through the day. "You need to get back into the gated ANBU compound. Since they're expecting me to sit by Dad right after my shift finishes, I'm supposed to meet Mom at the ANBU compound at the end of my shift to go over together."

Sarada grins. "I figured. That's why—"

It's an eerie kind of grin, with a glint just as devious as the looks Boruto has seen on his sister.

"—We use this."

Sarada reaches into the jacket to hold up a familiar electric blue container of gel.

"Hey! That's mine!" Boruto has to concede, there's a wee bit of shame in this admission.

 **'Miracle Hold!'** the label reads in excited bold letters. There's a picture of a spiky-haired blonde model, no doubt supposed to be a representation reminiscent of his ol' man, who was actually a very marketable celebrity.

"It _was_ yours, but I nicked it."

His mouth opens to protest, but she plows on.

"I promise I'll only use this as a last resort. But you have to let me try my plan in front of the mirror to test it first."

Boruto cocks an eyebrow. He knows there's a bathroom with a small mirror here, but it's one of those extremely tiny ones for a single person. He doesn't know how comfortable he is with squeezing into that small a space with Sarada in his body and he in hers. What with his vulnerable female self and all. You know, 'cause Sarada might pull something. But then again, it's Sarada. And then again, maybe Boruto likes the idea. Maybe.

Boruto clears his throat. "Uhh...I'm not letting you walk in, do something dirty, and walk out with a stupid hairdo," he scoffs. "You know people actually buy paparazzi photos of me, right?"

The last part is true. Mostly the lowest of the lows in tabloid news, but hey, if they showed off his arms as peacetime propaganda, who cares? Good cause, right?

"Gross. That was one time, and you were being even stupider than usual. Anyway, you can just go in with me."

Sarada concession makes Boruto feel this fuzzy, hot sensation at being told to go into the small enclosed space with her, at victory of his small plan-though-not-really plan, before she levels him with another (expected) insult.

"Though I have to say, I can't believe you use this brand. Father complex, much?"

"O-Oi! You're one to talk 'ttebasa."

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Over the restaurant booth wall, two light brown tufts of hair tremor with excitement.

"Do you _see_ them? They're clearly on a date. Look at them gab away! Are they not _perfect_ together? I mean, look at how much chemistry is there. I _can't._ I can't _EVEN_."

"I hate sexual tension," Shikadai supplies.

Chouchou pushes him, which would have toppled a lesser shinobi.

"Well, _scram_ then, loser. _Some_ of us appreciate the finer things in life."

"S'troublesome. Mom says dating is overrated." The raven-haired chunnin blinks, and then looks thoughtful. "Maybe cuz her and my old man could only do long distance, and she's still bitter after all these years…"

"Hey, you guys," Inojin cuts between his teammates. Sometimes, he wonders why sixteen years on this good earth has not matured them at all. Both are space cadets and even then are never on the same wavelength. "Why are we even here? We should be debriefing our mission."

"The Hokage's staff would care much more about our debriefing if we told them their dear ol' boss's son was up to this morning," Chouchou gushes, then slides back down to her seat, her face settling behind a large stack of empty dishes. "Ugh, they are SO cute. Do you think they've already…?"

"No."

"Seriously. Just piss off, Shika."

"Guys, be quiet, already!"

Immediately, they shush.

But not because of Inojin.

Chouchou's expression is riveted and Shikadai's face expresses something along the lines of oh-yuck-I'm-so-grossed-out-right-now.

"Ohohohohoho..."

"B-bathroom…" Shikadai chokes out.

"W-what?" Sure enough, when Inojin turns around, he sees a determined-looking Boruto push a flustered Sarada through the restroom door and (hey, a good ninja notices the details) lock it.

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tbc

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Suzu:Well, wordy and long chapter. I tried to slim it down for easy reading, but actually, almost all the details matter and will play a role later on. So I leave you, dear readers, with these questions:

Why can't Sarada tell Boruto her security clearance password?

What's with the hair gel?

When will Chouchou collect her bet money?

When will people take Inojin seriously?

And _how_ in the world can these chapter updates happen faster?


	4. Like You Count It

_Suzu: thank you SO much to my reviewers. You guys are wonderful, and I appreciate and laugh along with your remarks. :)_

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Surprise, surprise.

Sarada doesn't resemble anything truly offensive by the time she's done.

(Since Boruto counts his blessings like a good boy, he adds this to the list. The tally of good things for this terrible-horrible-rotten day is now a solid foundation of 1. Good start. There's no UST explosion action in the tiny bathroom promised by all those foreign rom-com movies they're importing nowadays, but he supposes that's for the best. Baby steps, baby steps.)

"Looks good?"

Sarada has smoothed the blonde locks into clumpy spikes, and while she looks a bit too much like a member of a boy band when she poses in the mirror with a serious Uchiha RBF (Uchiha-resting-brood-face), Boruto is secure enough in his post-pubescent coolness to let it go.

Her (err, his) blue eyes search for confirmation, and Boruto has to stop feeling weirded out by the fact that he has to look _up_ at her (in his body) now.

Boruto takes in one last eyeful.

"Pass. Stop looking constipated and we're set."

Sarada uses her newfound height to tower over him a bit, giving her best in-command lecture, which would be more annoyingly effective if she squeaked less with his voice.

"I'm _trying_ to look like your distant relative, jerk. We're gonna use this to sneak in. I can't help it if your facial expression is stupid."

Yeah, she does look like a distant relative, but not just that... he can't quite shake the feeling that she looks a different kind of familiar. Distracted, he pouts. "Watch it. Those're the Hokage's genes you're dissing."

"Wasted on you," she quips, turning the doorknob of the bathroom.

A veritable explosion of radiating energy greets the two. The source of which pronounces:

 **"HEY, you two."**

Two bright eyes stare up at Sarada as tufts of light chestnut hair bounce near her chin.

" _What_ is going on here, Sarada? _Hm?"_ The Akimichi's eyes are a bit too bright, and her pigtails nearly quivering with excitement as the girl's mouth does a dishonest dance between stern-serious-friend and gawd-I-am-SO-happy-that-my-favorite-drama-bomb-is-finally-exploding.

"Chouchou! I can expla—" Sarada starts, only to be unceremoniously barreled aside.

"Move it. Wasn't talking to you, Boruto."

Ow. Well. There's that.

A very perturbed looking Sarada (Boruto) is cornered and practically tractor-ed back into the bathroom. The door clicks and locks again.

Yikes. _That's not good._

No longer smarting about the ruins of her beautiful friendship with Chouchou, Sarada jumps to tug on the knob, praying as she simultaneously shoves her ear against the door to try to evaluate the trauma she would need to tiptoe around in her future missions with Boruto.

Was that cackling? Oh kami, was that _cackling_?

Before she gets any grand ideas of trying her hand at Boruto's signature Rasengan to see if she could blow the door down and simultaneously give both people inside therapeutic amnesia, a hand claps Sarada sympathetically on the shoulder, and pulls her away from the door.

"Weird hair, Boruto. Are you going for punk rock spikes? Because those were out of style ages ago."

"Shikadai…" Sarada blesses the name and tries to feel a bit better. Maybe the Nara can think of something to help.

Her frenzied look must have been enough to reveal her thoughts.

"Give it a rest, man. Chouchou's, ah… _educating_ on the ' _finer things of life'_ , whatever that crap means." Shikadai smirks at her with bored eyes, trying—and failing—to hide a look of interest twinkling behind them.

About to consider flailing against the door in despair, Sarada turns to her other shoulder, where Inojin is looking politely worried.

"Boruto, I know it's been hard on you since puberty. My dad gave me these psychoanalysis books, and they say copulating is quite effective in relieving stress," the pale boy explains, much to Sarada's growing horror. "But, you know, there are preferred methods of _safe_ interc—"

" _Stop_ , Inojin. Look, man, are ya doin' the dirty with Sarada or not?" Shikadai interrupts oh so delicately.

Dirty?

No.

She would be doing the 'ache'y to the Nara soon enough, though.

"Uh," Sarada says intelligently.

"Because it's okay, y'know. No shame. We all have intractable, base urges."

So she was just an intractable, _base_ urge? Boruto's vocabulary may not have covered this veiled insult, but her's did.

"Yeah! And Sarada's pretty okay, as they go," Inojin smiles. "She's got a nice… a nice… hmm, well, I guess she's pretty good at reminding you to do stuff."

"Fuh…" said girl in boy's body comments, because normally her Sharingan would have switched on and probably somehow bled black fire at these guys already.

Her dad never told her how Mangekyou got unlocked, but this is probably it.

Exactly two seconds before she decides to just make a run for it before she massacres anyone (logical behavior be damned) a slam of the bathroom door makes everyone collectively wince as an empty shell of a body is deposited neatly at Sarada's feet.

Sarada blinks a few times as she watches Boruto in her body crumple and attach himself to the floor of the grease-stained restaurant as if it were some life support.

Is it alive?

She gives it a prod with her foot.

Well, shit.

"Wow," Inojin murmurs.

Then Shikadai sharply elbows his companion, who looks nervously around, before deciding the trouble isn't worth it and resolutely keeps his mouth shut, his wide eyes glued a few inches to the right of a beatific Chouchou.

Radiant as the sun, the Akimichi claps Sarada (in Boruto's body) a few times. If Sarada isn't presently so concerned with her body's welfare, she would have run at first contact. Really.

"NOW GO FORTH, YOUNG ONE. PROCREATE WITH YOUR LOVE AND FILL THIS GOOD EARTH," Chouchou pronounced, her expression reminiscent of some benign Bodhisattva. "YOUR LOVE IS GOOD AND READY."

Inojin looks troubled.

Shikadai looks disturbed.

And Boruto, still curled on the floor… well, he's still curled on the floor.

A few restaurant goers turn around too. The place is relatively empty this time of day, but some familiar faces turn with interest to find out who exactly is getting married on the same day as the Hokage's tenth anniversary. Surely that's quite auspicious! Maybe the Hokage would give his blessings!

Inojin takes out his pen, the one that he uses for his jutsu. He glows with something like sympathy. Maybe. It's hard to tell given his next words.

"Do you want me to write the name of the psychoanalysis book for you, Boruto? Or maybe another one that's better for procreation tips?"

Sarada decides _this_ is as good a time as any for a tactical retreat.

Yes.

Before any of them reach any more enlightenment about the finer things in life.

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 _tbc_

* * *

 _Suzu: this will probably be short, sort of crack-y fic. I'm guessing around 15 chapters or so?_


	5. Like You Cut It

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Outside, there are colorful banners hanging from the hill next to the Hokage memorial cliffs. From the vantage point of any villagers, there are cheerful pastel ribbons in the previous hokages' hair.

Mollified by the sight of his old man's face attached to hair of colorful waving ripples, Boruto scans the streets for Sarada. Instead of his perplexed female teammate, he gets a faceful of yowling, screeching fur.

"You ran away again?" he clucks.

Boruto untangles the suddenly purring mass of knotted fur and nauseating pink ribbon. The creature is a mangy demon, and he loves it. It's purring up a storm, shaking as it sheds all over his sister's clothes. It makes sense that the cat's soul recognizes him, even when he's trapped in its nemesis' body.

Sarada reappears from behind a garbage can. She takes one look at the positively domestic scene and goose bumps explode along her arms.

"Oh god, that cat again. It tried to scratch my face last time we did a D-rank mission. That was six years ago and this thing is _still_ traumatizing new genin."

Indignant at the ill-wishes for the cat's longevity (but quite agreeing that the cat deserved at least a B-rating), Boruto deposits koneko-chan on the ground, where it mews unbecomingly, like a piteous giant hairball. Still, Sarada looks over, a tiny bit of longing in her eyes.

"Maybe it'll like me since I'm you?" she wonders.

"Better not. She knows your soul is super dark. You've been the one to actually catch her too many times for her to like you, in any incarnation."

Sarada huffs. "How would you know? This is my chance."

With that, she scoops up the scruffy old thing. It doesn't squirm, merely gets very quiet, until, claws extended, it makes two neat slashes on either side of Sarada's—er, Boruto's—face.

Bleeding profusely, the Uchiha neatly drops the cat and walks away in silence, ignoring Boruto's sad attempts at muffling his mirth.

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"My mom gave this cream to my dad at the chuunin exams, apparently."

"Oh."

Sarada turns pink. Or rather, Boruto's face gets bright under the quickly clotting scratch marks. Actual Boruto thumbs some more of the waxy substance on his own face before Sarada reaches out a hand to stop him.

"S-stop staring."

"What? You're super handsome as me."

She huffs. "I can do the rest myself, Narcissist."

Seeing the scabbing already underway, Boruto agrees. He gives another smear for good measure, though, and retreats before a snarling Sarada can hit him upside the head.

"Seriously, let's just go execute the plan. We're losing time."

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tbc


	6. Like You Know It

_Suzu: quick updates are a form of happiness._

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To make their way to the gates of the inner sanctum, the holy of holies, so to speak, there are several obstacles to overcome.

Boruto, avid (read: addict) gamer that he is, looks around the perimeter for the last boss' villainous lackeys, or something like that. There are a ton of people, so this is a difficult exercise, and he says as much to his compatriot.

"Look at all these people, Sarada!"

"That's because Kakashi-sama just passed by, idiot! Now stop shouting inane things!" Sarada hisses.

But Boruto has a point. The Rokudaime is elusive, at best; a folksy legend that arrives shamelessly late and leaves promptly early—yes, even at his Hokage duties. There is a growing mob of people who want either to steal a picture or to air their past grievances at having to wait for five hours whenever there was an official proclamation of any kind during the Rokudaime's reign—because it meant carving out an entire day just to wait around for him on that blasted Hokage tower balcony, and when he did show up, he had near-criminally ill-prepared excuses.

"I'm going first to do your rotation," Sarada reminds him. "But be here on my bathroom break, because you're gonna go in with a henge to look like you, and then dispel it, and start my rotation." She raps him on the head. "Oy. Quit that dopey expression with my face."

Unfortunately, Sarada's plan to casually infiltrate the Hokage camp to start Boruto's ANBU patrol doesn't go off without a hitch.

It's not the paparazzi hoisting polaroid stands from _Trendy Kunoichi_ nor the sound system crew carting loudspeakers from _I Heart ShuriKen-san FM_ that jostle her out of the way.

Rather, the first mishap occurs when a set up volunteer brings in a single lovely sunflower, but one dangling in a precipitously very tall, very full bucket of water.

It topples and drenches Sarada.

Sopping wet, she's straining the excess liquid from her now shorter and blonder locks, seeing if she can worm her way back out the line of people into the unenclosed area, when a familiar voice gasps.

"… Oh my."

She greets the Rokudaime standing at attention, like any good soldier. A second too late, she realizes Boruto is probably _not_ a good soldier (seeing how much respect he gave the _current_ , coolest Hokage), so she slouches her spine awkwardly and stutters a half-hearted "Dattebas-s-sorry" as compensation.

Kakashi's eye-smile is still the creepiest. "Oh, at ease, Boruto. They're taking the passwords over there. I forgot mine wandering through the road of life, so Sai sent me off to be interrogated and then compared to my Hokage Registration Photo. Something about not aging properly."

For someone going to the interrogation chambers, the silver-haired Rokudaime has neither the right attitude nor any sort of escort. Sarada idly wonders how the volunteers would check, when enemy and friend alike have no clue? No one she knows of in Konoha is well-informed enough to pull down the face mask and actually check.

Sarada nods. "Yessir. I'm going now, Rokudaime, sir."

She swivels and starts to soldier-march over to the gate where Sai is waiting.

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Inojin's father is humming a little ditty. It sounds like the theme song of a soap opera that's been popular recently, which Chouchou (Sarada's **EX** -best friend) so liked for the truly fantabulous set of abs on every male costar vying for the female lead.

"Okay, password?"

"Ramen."

Sai pauses.

"Password?"

Sarada mind-screams a little. Considers a hernia. Decides it's not worth it.

"…Ramen," she says, her face scrunching.

Sai chuckles a little. "Not to worry, Boruto. Remember, I told you that password wasn't strong enough, so we switched it to your third favorite ramen. So, password?"

 _Nonononononononono._ Sarada simultaneously curses Sai's little serene smile, Boruto's dumb ramen preference list, and the fact that she never bothered to check the sequence of Boruto's ramen orders, whatever clue it may offer.

Breathe in. Out.

Sarada says the first flavor of ramen she can think of (which happens to be the little fun fact in the interview _Trendy Kunoichi_ did on the Nanadaime, but whatever, food addictions run in the family, right?).

"Miso ramen!" she says steadily.

Sai's eyebrows raise. "With…?"

 _Oh._ She's gonna _murder_ that Boruto.

Just roll with it.

"W-with extra barbeque pork!"

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The interrogation chair is high. Not just high, it's super high, so it's kind of unfair that Kakashi is next to her, slouching happily in his therapeutic, rocket-powered wheelchair with extra padding (paid with taxpayer money).

Sarada gulps

"Don't worry, Boruto-san, Rokudaime-sama, this is just normal protocol. I'm sure you'll be back to prepare for the festivities once we have a quick conversation, ne?"

The man's voice is like a chirpy bird's, rising and falling in melodic chorus. His beard is twirled into a little curl at the end, something that makes Sarada suspicious of his credentials instantly, even if there are at least seven certificates hanging from the makeshift tent wall behind him.

Come to think of it (she squints hard) one of them looks like some sort of "Time-Space Sect" membership certificate.

"Rokudaime-sama, what is your father's alias?"

"White Fang," drawls Kakashi, who looks around the tent wonderingly, like he;s enjoying himself famously under that mask.

"What is your favorite series of books?"

"Ah." The Rokudaime has the gall to blush, like a schoolgirl. "Icha Icha Paradise."

Scandalized, Sarada looks from one man to the other from her high chair, as the interrogator coughs, smiles, and says: "Okay, this last question is veeeery hard, so only the real Rokudaime could answer it: what was the number of your genin students' team?"

Sarada hands attach themselves over her face. Well… at least she'll be fine answering Boruto's.

As with most things readily apparent from this set up, though, life is unfair.

As the Rokudaime sits happily eye-smiling up at her, Sarada fudges way through the most traumatizing set of questions she's been privy to.

"I happen to be an expert on the matters of the Nanadaime," the interrogator discloses in an unnecessarily hushed but equally chirpy voice. "So, here's an easy one for starters, Boruto: what's the name of the second cousin twice-removed on the Hyuuga side?"

Shoot me, Sarada nearly blurts.

To Kakashi's three, she receives a total of thirty questions, increasing in difficulty from there. Some of them were about the Nanadaime or the Nanadaime's childhood, which she has memorized from all the books and interviews she's read—so at least the odds were good there.

Unexpectedly, the interrogator is quivering by the time he pronounces they're done.

Sarada is admittedly a little worried—she thinks she may sound a bit off from Boruto's normal self, and she wonders when the behavioral aspect is going to come. And when they'll check the ID photos and worry she's aged strangely, like Kakashi mentioned earlier.

But instead, the interrogators eyes are puddly and sparkling like a sea of shining water. He sniffs a bit as he pulls out an old genin application, far too old and yellowed to be Boruto's, and peers at her with tears trickling down his round face.

"O-oh! I never thought this day would come…" he quivers.

"Pardon?" Sarada squeaks, as the man wraps his arms around her.

"N-Naruto-samaaa! You've finally time-traveled to us!"

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tbc


	7. Like You Move It

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Not many people notice the little stress habits all shinobi acquire eventually, but Sarada's always been an exceptionally observant girl.

Konohamaru-sensei's eyebrows wriggle, sometimes, when he's upset. It's a tic he developed after watching Mitsuki rile Boruto up in their mid-teens, by singing songs that included 'tree' and 'kissing' and women much, much older than Boruto's mom.

The spasms this time are impressive.

The Rokudaime is tapping his foot to the beat of the facial brow movement, causing Sarada to question the meaning of her seventeen years of life.

Seventeen years.

Repeat that. Believe.

"So, let's go over this again. What was the last thing you saw in Konoha when you time-skipped? Are you _sure_ you're not fourteen? Twelve? When's the last time you put goggles on your head?"

"Seventeen. And I'm Boruto," Sarada tries again. It's hopeless, and she's about to perform high treason if Kakashi-sama syncopates for another minute.

"E-excuse me," Konohamaru mutters hesitantly. "Um, why exactly was I called here? I-I just don't think time travel is a thing."

(Say it with more pride, Sensei! Sarada wants to shout, but she's unwilling to get herself into any more trouble.)

"I do," Kakashi-sama eye-smiles. "Explains why my breakfast is always cold by the time I eat. I slip into a different dimension to first drink tea with Obito."

While Sarada gawks on in horror and wonders if this is what retirement does to former Hokage, the interrogator nods, sympathetic.

"Think about it. Why in the world did Naruto-sama grow to become so strong, so fast? It's because his alternate timeline self traveled into the past, inhabiting his young body. And according to replacement theory, his younger self must reemerge as a cocoon in the alternative timeline, so that one Naruto exists per dimension. We call this phenomenon a visitation."

"I call it, I-need-a-vacation." Konohamaru gives Kakashi a withering stare. "Rokudaime. Please verify that it's Boruto, and I can drag my team back to prepare for the ceremony, already."

"Okay, okay. At what age did Naruto start being a competent ninja?" Kakashi fixes her with an uncharacteristically serious stare.

"I'm not going to answer the age thing, again." Her Uchiha stubbornness shines through.

"Answer," says the Rokudaime.

"Uh… at fifteen?" That's when Naruto-sama got from from his journey with the Great Toad Sage, Jiraiya, right?

Konohamaru intejects with much indignation. "No way, Boruto. Your father was cool _way_ before then. I used to camp out in cardboard boxes just to fight him." He gets a wistful sort of look on his face, and the eyebrow spasms finally die.

 _That's-a-lie_ , Kakashi ANBU hand-signs to her. It's unclear. He may also have said: _I-want-pie_ , depending on context.

Sarada in turn tries to transmit some sort of SOS signal to the Rokudaime with her eyes. While Konohamaru-sensei gets into a heated argument with the interrogator about the physics of quantum space travel, Sarada signs, quickly, also in ANBU hand code: _It's-me-Sarada_.

She's desperate at this point, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

It's to the Copy-Nin's credit that he doesn't bat an eyelash, just shrugs. "Well, he's not using genjutsu, nor ninjutsu," he declares with all of his former hokage authority.

Oh, thank kami.

But then Kakashi turns back to her, and actually _sniggers_ , hand over the place where his mouth should be under the mask.

 _You-owe-me_ , he signs. Either that, or: _Two-Posies._

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" _Woah_ , Se—uh, _Dad_ , what's u—I mean, did you get back okay?"

Uchiha Sasuke may have been Boruto's teacher once-upon-a-time, but nothing prepares Boruto for the look the man gives when he catches him in the crowd of people just outside the tents. Boruto thanks the heavens he didn't insist on the shadow clones plan with Sarada, because any clones would have disintegrated into smoke from just the force of that stare.

"Hn. Your mother said you came into the house this morning."

"Uh—yeah. I had to get some stuff."

Crud. Did Sarada get caught when she snuck out her dad's robes? That meant her mom saw Boruto in their house? Did her mom know about the switch? Did her mom tell her dad? _No! Spare me. I'm too young to die! I didn't touch your daughter, I swear!_

"She heard you when she was getting ready. You should have gone upstairs to greet your mother."

Oh. Oh thank kami. He cancels the thought that he needs to find Sarada immediately and hide his body from potential cremation by black Sharingan fire.

"Well, I'll see her here, so… uh, speaking of, is Mom coming to meet you now?"

Sasuke again looks at him a bit intensely. Then again, what else is new? Boruto will never tell, but the Uchicha constipation face, in his opinion, should be trademarked and classified as a kekkai genkai. It's certainly hereditary enough.

"Tenzo Yamato had some pain in his knee. She's checking him so he can give his speech congratulating that Dobe."

Ah, the old nickname for his father. Sensei is still sensei, unchanged. But Tenzo Yamato? That old geezer? Isn't he, like, loooong retired? Didn't they post him out in the boondocks?

It's then that a familiar pink-haired figure comes into view.

"Sarada! I just heard from Kakashi-sensei that you weren't feeling well? What's wrong? I thought you told me you had morning guard duty today. Sarada? Honey, your face… it's so red. I told you to not go out without sunscreen."

The fussing Sakura gives Boruto an idea of why Sarada moved out, and he's still at home, living (leeching) off his mom's cooking.

Boruto tries and fails to say something intelligent back. It sounds from Sakura's news that his partner-in-crime is in danger, and, being the reluctant hero he is (maybe that runs in _his_ family, 'ttebasa), he's gonna go save her ass, no questions asked.

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Sasuke shifts his glance sideways to his wife.

"Say…"

"Yes?" Sakura chirps, always glad to have her husband back in the village, and perhaps even more glad to have some alone time.

"When did Sarada stop calling us Papa and Mama?"

She freezes momentarily, before a sly grin splits her face.

"Oh? You're not feeling abandoned are you, honey? Your little princess is growing up? You can cry on my shoulder, if you want."

The stricken expression on the man's face is enough.

"Hn."

He may take her up on that offer.

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tbc

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 **Suzu: as always, thanks so much for reading!**


	8. Like You Spin It

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Boruto runs like the wind. Also like the wind, he runs quite without direction. Without aim. He runs without the foggiest clue of where Sarada would be gallivanting along, in his self-perceived studly, handsome-as-hell body. _Tralala_ , he runs.

Just as he rounds the corner of the large tent, a fold of fabric slaps him in the face. Lo and behold, the pale, reticent, kind of creepy Yamanaka Sai follows along after.

"Sarada," Sai says with the ghost of a smile. He plants his foot in front of Boruto's path, as if curious about something.

Boruto stops and readjusts his posture. Sarada's line of sight still took getting used to. He isn't used to looking up at the man. Boruto's honest enough to admit to himself that Sai is scarier from the twenty-five degree angle.

"Reporting for duty early?" Sai smiles.

"Nah," Boruto says, before an idea strikes.

The real Sarada would have entered the tent with his password by now, but Sarada still hasn't told him _her_ password. Surely there's a reason. What if it's something super embarrassing? His brain tells him: yes, _of course_ it would be something embarrassing. Maybe her favorite movie actor, or something nerdy like favorite author.

Boruto peers at the pale man inquisitively, while Sai looks placidly back, eyes closed and incomprehensible.

"Hey, hey. My ANBU password… can I change it? I… don't know if it's… appropriate now. You know… it's a little too…"

Boruto gesticulates meaninglessly with his hands.

Sai pauses, then nods.

"I guess that makes sense. It's high time you grew out of your crush."

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The thing about owing people is that you have to owe the right people, only. Finding yourself indebted to the wrong person is like shooting yourself in the head with a gun loaded in all the slots. You're the only one thinking you're still playing Russian Roulette with each "favor". Wrong person number one would probably be Hatake Kakashi, retired hokage and hobbiest sadist.

"What do you mean, give the speech commemorating Nanadaime's achievements? _You're_ the one giving the speech, Rokudaime sir!"

Hatake Kakashi is beatific. His face (the part uncovered) is radiant as the sun.

Scorching like the sun.

Merciless upon the parched, desert land that is Sarada's nerves as the sun.

His voice is deceptively light.

"Just a small favor."

As the responsible one of her friend group, Sarada's heard this line a million times. She knows how to counter.

"A hundred thousand ryo." Her outstretched hand make a grabby motion, for good measure. She tries very hard to make Boruto's face look menacing and not the usual daydreaming look he has on during mission briefings.

Kakashi looks woe begotten, aghast, and forlorn. There's a small puddle of tears collecting in his left eye.

It's a fucking lie, she knows.

"You're rich, anyway," she mutters, scowling. All politicians recouped somehow, after retiring from office. Most made speeches. "And it's not like I'm cut out to give your speech for you. Aren't previous hokage supposed to do that for new ones?"

"Well, I'm just so _busy_ ," the silver-haired retiree living off his pension coffers demures. "Old too, you know. My memory doesn't work like it used to. And years of harboring the Sharingan have taken its toll on my eyesight. Won't remember my speech even if I have it written down."

As a bona-fide Uchiha, Sarada can attest to the unlikeliness of that account. Her father's eyesight is fine, and unless Kakashi has been shooting black fire at regular intervals for fun during his peaceful term as Rokudaime, then there was no reason for him to plead blindness as an excuse. Well, she wouldn't put it past him. Maybe that's why the Hokage office desk never smelled the same after, and the Hokage Office paperwork strangely charred at the edges when Sarada was working as courier.

"Let me make this worth your while, Sarada-chan" Kakashi finally eye-smiles.

She's a pragmatic creature. Her mother's handiwork, really. All those years of being rendered homeless after their mortgaged houses crumbled down at the flick of a finger. Money doesn't grow on trees.

"I'm listening."

"If you give this speech, I won't tell anyone about your body-switching fiasco."

Sarada humphs, and looks unimpressed.

In what screwed up universe is this making anything 'worth her while'? Wasn't this blackmail? And a very strange variant of it, too.

"Go ahead! Tell everyone! We'll need publicity to find some way to switch back, anyhow!" Sarada says, triumphant in her flawless logic.

Kakashi sighs mournfully.

"What a cold-hearted girl you are, Sarada-chan. I wonder where you get it from. Probably Sakura… no, no, more likely Sasuke… Well, they were both so ungrateful… Now that I think about it, who was the one who rescued both of them as tender young children from Zabuza, from pirates, from man-eating tigers, from…" the list went on and on, impressively. Senile memory problems her ass.

"From their own puberty..." Kakashi shudders, then recovers. "Oh right, it was me!" he sing-songs.

Kakashi concludes impressively by smiling demurely up at her from his wheelchair.

"So of course their only daughter can't do this old man one small favor."

"I… _you_ ," Sarada sputters. "I don't care if you're the Rokudaime. My father was right about you."

"And this is why they picked me for Hokage," Kakashi nods in agreement. "Imagine the additional years of therapy the village would need if I subjected them to yet another speech. It's up to you, young Sarada. It's up to you."

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* * *

 _Suzu: The hiatus nearly ended this little story. As with these things, writing muses come and go. But we all need something silly and lighthearted in our lives._

 _Thanks to everyone who read, faved, commented. It's honestly you guys that revived this from the dead._


	9. Like You Ask It

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The Hyuuga had a good thing going when they decided to mix other bloodlines into their own. It's good for the village _and_ their clan's gene pool (i.e. weeds out the inbred crazy syndrome). But not just anyone would do for breeding, per ol' geezer Hiashi's waxing lyrical about Hyuuga's long and venerated history. It has to be someone special.

 _Special_ , as history shows, is defined loosely.

Though Sarada will never tell anyone this— _evereverever_ —it's honestly nothing short of a miracle that Himawari and Boruto's mom married their dad. Now, don't be confused. Just because Sarada idolizes the Nanadaime doesn't mean she cannot comprehend that Naruto-sama has shortcomings. One such would be romance.

If what Himawari leaks about the village's "first couple" is correct, all school girls everywhere ought to worship the ground that Uzumaki Hinata walks upon. Hinata's patience, tenacity, sheer _brilliance_ —if put to ends that are not snagging Naruto and raising his incorrigible son—could annihilate nations.

Here, Sarada thinks to her own mom.

Oh. Okay, maybe all mothers are like that.

(Now, if only she had the same drive toward her own crush.)

"Mom, take a break for now," Sarada says brightly, marching over to the figure sitting in the corner of the tent. The brunette's peaceful figure is hunched over and oblivious to the grandiose view overlooking Konoha that stretched endlessly below. Like she's seen it billions of times before, from this speech platform. Which she has.

After a brief pause, Hinata raises her head from darning the last detail on Naruto's worn Nanadaime haori. The pale-eyed woman smiles gently, then stops. The byakugan immediately activates.

"You."

One word is enough. Before she's "gentle"-fisted to death, Sarada puts her hands to the sky.

But Hinata only peers harder, the veins around her eyes constricting ever so slightly. It's enough to be terrifying. Sarada gives a nervous chuckle, forgoing the dattebasa at the end.

"I-I surrender."

"Ah." Hinata puts aside her patch job and covers her smile with her hand. "Sarada-chan?"

 _How in the world…_

Sarada shakes her head. See what she means? _Annihilate nations._ The Nanadaime's wife has devastating ninja prowess. Perhaps the peace between the Five Great Nations is in part due to her influence.

It's at this moment that Kakashi finally wheels up behind her. Of course he would pick the opportune moment to come in without catching the windfall of any potentially unpleasant revelation. Maybe it's cowardice. But here, Sarada concedes on his judgment being actual wisdom.

Kakashi does a mock salute.

"Yo! Dog's outta the bag."

"That's cat…" Sarada mutters under her breath, as Kakashi and Hinata give their greetings to one another. For some reason, Boruto's mom is as unfazed as Kakashi at the news of the body switch. She can't imagine why. The woman is pleasantly placid even when Kakashi explains that Sarada in the form of Boruto is going to give the speech that he's supposed to give.

But when the retired Rokudaime finishes, Hinata says something that makes Sarada admire even more Boruto's mom.

"Pardon me for my ignorance, but isn't it tradition for you to give the speech, Kakashi-sama?"

Sarada observes from the sidelines. SHAAAANARO, she would have shouted, except there are active ANBU milling about, ready to incapacitate imposters of Hokage family members. So… yeah.

Unsurprisingly, the Rokudaime has the gall to shake his head and wag a finger. "Is it, though?"

Hinata cocks her head. Her face is radiant. " _Isn't_ it, though?"

"Since Tsunade only."

Hinata coughs lightly. "That's because the previous Hokage died in office."

"Exactly. And I'm still here," eye-smiles Kakashi, as if that settled that.

 _Oh. My. Gawd._

"Sarada-chan," Hinata turns to the Uchiha heir trapped in her son's body. "Where is Boruto?"

And lo, Kakashi is sending her the ANBU kill sign, his fluidly dancing fingers truly desperate, like he doesn't want to be left alone with the delightful Mrs. Uzumaki for some reason. Sarada watches him sign various other SOS messages to her, each more frenzied and fluttering than the last. And so, in true kunoichi fashion, Sarada smiles back at Hinata and says:

"I'll go get him, Mrs. Uzumaki. This might take a while, so take your time."

"Good girl. Be back for the ceremony," Hinata smiles.

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 _tbc_

* * *

 _Suzu: next chap: Sarada and Boruto have a bone to pick with one another._


	10. Like You Guess It

_Suzu: I should apologize. This chapter is sheer crack (but it does advance the plot!)._

 _Poor, paranoid Boruto._

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Boruto, on his way back from Sai's tent, feels a bit grumpy about life. Why? He hasn't found out Sarada's ANBU password—just that it's something embarrassing.

And.

One.

More.

Thing.

Sarada has a crush on someone.

He pauses mid-step, peeving some jostling people behind him in the crowd, as he's lost in thought.

 _The fresh hell._

Apparently, Ms. Ice Queen can actually be kind of sweet, though he knew that already. Woah. No. Brain. No.

What did Shino-sensei say again? The more you know, the more you don't know? As kids, his gang used to laugh at this (Shikadai used the adage as justification for why he had _no need_ to learn anything _, like, so troublesome, what's the point._ ) This adage sailed over Boruto's head as a kid, but now, he wants to run up to Shino-sensei and shake him by the shoulders until his teacher coughs up another philosophical saying that's more _useful_ , rather than just painfully _true._

The more you know (THE Uchiha Sarada has a crush on someone)—

—the more you don't know (who who who who who?).

Boruto's brain does another somersault.

Gloom and doom crash over his thoughts. Perhaps that person likes her back. Or at least feels strongly enough to show some interest. To ascertain the likeliest candidate, Boruto contemplates hitting on all the studly dudes in their genin class (the studliest which would have been himself). Well, maybe Iwabe? Yuino Iwabe was way taller and older than the rest, and now, he's monstrously jacked. Boruto feels the pit of his stomach fall, for some reason. But… it's probably okay, right? No way Iwabe would like someone as flat-chested as Sarada. He's now got confirmation that's she's pretty much built like a stick. A _smart and somewhat pretty_ stick, but still.

Boruto's about to cruise over to see what Iwabe's up to today (probably chopping firewood or something unfortunately studly) when a cough interrupts his thoughts. He turns to find a figure in green spandex kicking up a cloud of dust. The figure approaches.

"I'm here first!" shouts Metal.

"What?" Boruto is left confused, since no one else is—"Shit!" he slams into a watery apparition turned into living, breathing human.

Rubbing his sore nose, he scans the foreign clothing, then, looking up, sees none other than Kirigakure's Karatachi Kagura. It's not the guy's face that's surprising. Ever since the field trip to Kiri during their Academy days, Kagura's visits have still been crazy popular with the girls. But Boruto's never had to look _up_ at the guy to get confirmation that, despite Kagura's girly face, he's a freakin' _tree._ Does Sarada like guys built like metaphorical _trees?_

"S-Sarada-chan? Are you okay?" Metal asks worriedly, taken aback by his beloved Sarada-chan's dainty: 'shit' utterance. "We, uh, had something to ask you… but if you're not feeling well…"

 _You have no idea._ "Not feeling great, cough, cough," Boruto squeaks out a high-pitched little laugh. "Maybe next time?" _Or better yet, maybe never?_

"Wait, Uchiha Sarada." Kagura's pink face gradually subsides and gets all serious and devastating and sparkly. "It's been a while. It's been harder and harder to find time to visit. If you don't mind, today, there is something I, uh, have to tell you." For some reason, firm fingers grip his—Sarada's—arms, and Boruto can tell they're kinda sweaty and that's definitely not because of his turn-his-body-to-water jutsu. If Boruto himself weren't some hormonal teenage boy, he'd almost mistake this for…

 _Oh shit._ Boruto realizes. _I totally left out the foreign ones._

So he does the only sensible thing in this situation.

He bolts.

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Sarada stops from careening into the alley when she spots her body.

Boruto, striking a very uncool, un-Uchiha-like pose, is hunched over on the side of the building. Like a freakin' delinquent. She's amazed no one's found them out yet, as having switched. Then, upon approaching, she realizes he's panting slightly, like he's been running. Well. He's always been a weird kid.

"Girls don't squat like that," she informs him.

"I'm not a girl."

"Well, you're in my body, Stupid. Get up, and lets get back to the ceremony preparations."

This stymies a look upward. Sarada might have registered the look as trauma, or sullen despondency. But it's probably just Boruto being dramatic again. Sarada sighs and tries not to think about what her face usually looks like, scowling at Boruto. She hopes it's not as bad as the expression Boruto's making now. No wonder Chouchou tells her (lovingly) that she can be a frigid witch with a b.

"You're barely a girl, either," is the retort.

 _"Hah?"_ Sarada scoffs. "What did you say, Boruto? Wanna fight?"

Finally, he quirks his mouth upward into a wan half-smile. "You're not supposed to call me that in public, remember?"

"I'm pretending to be you right now. All sorts of crazy things usually come out of _your_ mouth," she sniffs.

Boruto humors her and stands. If his eyes are a little less bright, his smile when he wins a brownie argument point a bit less effusive, then Sarada chalks it up to the fact that he doesn't enjoy having to parade around in someone else's body for so long. He's a true _narcissist._

"So? Why're you looking for me?" he sighs as they trudge along the road toward the Hokage monument. "You're supposed to be getting ready for the speech from the family box."

She steels a glance his way. It's still weird—looking down, and at herself, too. "Well, about that, I need to save the Rokudaime from imminent death. Your mom—"

"High cholesterol?" Boruto interjects gravely. "Mom mentioned it. You know, Kakashi-ossan comes over for dinner whenever yakiniku's on the menu. Puts the extra in doggie bags to take home too."

Sarada dismisses the absurdity that is Konoha leadership. "Doggie bags might actually be for his dogs."

"Ah." Boruto claps a fist to his palm.

"Wait. Don't get me off topic! The Rokudaime's facing imminent death by your mom. She's holding him hostage until he can think of a nice speech to say for the Hokage's anniversary."

Boruto cringes. "Oy, you know what happens when Kakashi-ossan gives speeches. I wanna enjoy the rest of my day, even if I have to do it as you."

"Gee thanks. Is being me really that bad?"

He pauses. "Well, I didn't realize how scary a lot of guys from our genin class are."

"Scary, how?"

"I think some of them are trying to practice new jutsu on you, Sar—uh, Boruto. You should definitely avoid them for now. Especially Kagura."

"Kagura-kun, from Kiri? He's not in our class, Genius."

Boruto stops. "You call him _what?_ "

"What's wrong? He's a male friend."

"I'm a friend!" Boruto wheezes. "And male!"

She frowns. "Why should I use a suffix with you? I've also known you since you were in diapers." Boruto is still strangely glum, so Sarada switches the topic back to the issue at hand.

"So, anyway," she says. "I was thinking I could give the speech in Kakashi's stead, as you. You know how much I like your dad, so…" She flushes a bit with pride, thinking of what an honor it would be to give the speech commemorating the Hokage's tenth anniversary. "You don't mind if I use your body for it?"

She watches him watch her carefully. Boruto in her body is speechless, and pale, like he's realized something awful. Sarada knows that look, from staring at her own mirror the night after Boruto told her his future goals. And also the night Auntie Shizune told her Mama was taking out a second mortgage.

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A half hour later, when Sarada's gone off to write her speech, Boruto would throw a small pity party for himself in the men's bathroom, oblivious to himself in Sarada's body getting weird looks from all the other guys who're trying to use the urinals.

"I've left out _dads,"_ Boruto breathes.

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* * *

 _tbc_

 _Clarification: Boruto's guessing who Sarada fancies._


End file.
